


Our Song

by Hacereadsenochian (Grannahreadsenochian)



Category: Poe Dameron - Fandom, Star Wars, Star Wars VII, The Force Awakens - Fandom
Genre: AU, All will be well, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I em not proud of this, I em trash, PTSD, Panic Attack, Read ye read ye, WW2 AU, here it be, kinda cheesy tbh, there there, torture reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grannahreadsenochian/pseuds/Hacereadsenochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World War 2 AU Where the boys just got back home after a daring attack on Starkiller base. Yousa (Hehe) end up dancing with Poe, despite your not wanting to, but a panic attack puts something of a damper on your night, and comforting ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grannahreadsenochian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grannahreadsenochian/gifts).



> I like writing scenes at night.  
> I've figured it out, I just really like nighttime scenes.  
> The cheese is strong with this one.
> 
> On other news, I'm Poe Dameron Garbage
> 
> Other other news, written for Grannahreadsenochian after she slammed me with this epic prompt

It's been less than a week since the end of the war.  
The boys had trudged home wearily- happy, but wearily.  
They'd lost a lot of friends in the war.  
But it's a night of celebration, for the old friends.  
You all collect in the house of the fearless black leader, for a round or two of drinks.  
Every one of the boys has a girl attached to their arm, whether an old girlfriend or newly acquired, it matters not.  
You're one of the old gals. You sit on the big blue couch in the living room, chatting with another old gal, plus one to Snaps. She served in the hospital, and you in communications, so you have something in common. Both of you served in the field and both of you brought back your own stories. But you don't actually swap tales now, you just talk about the weather and the market and the latest movies that have just come out. Something about FDR and rebuilding the economy.  
Light from the dining room and kitchen streams into the un-lit living room, and the chatter of everyone in the surrounding rooms hums under the cheerful tune floating out of the radio.  
It feels good.  
The grinning face of your lover appears in the dining room doorway, looking down at you.  
"It's our song!" He says over the noise.  
"Yeah, it has been for a while!" you shout back. "Two whole verses in fact!" You put a finger to your ear so he'll listen. He winks. You know what he's going to do next. He shimmies in front of you and shakes his hips playfully. His feet are moving back and forth and his arms too, in rhythm with the music. He holds out his hand.  
"Oh no." You say with a smile.  
"You know you want to." He insists, unrelenting.  
"Please don't make me." You plead, but it's too late. He takes your hand and pulls you up, pulling you into the middle of the room where he places his hand on your back and holds you close. His lips are very close to yours and just pressing against him you can feel his heart beat, thumping steadily. He looks down at you with those deep, gorgeous brown eyes. You've lost your battle of wills. Thank goodness it's on the last verse. One verse and a chorus and a half and it'll be over, this public humiliation.  
He's right, you do want to dance. You just don't want to in front of everyone. Despite his vehement protests, you are convinced that you are a horribly awkward dancer and that just because you love to dance doesn't mean you should break out your moves at a party.  
Too late, he's twirling you and swinging you side to side.  
Someone hoots and shouts at the others. Suddenly everyone's gathered in the doorway, laughing, catcalling.  
"The things I put up with for you." You say, rolling your eyes at your partner. He just smiled smugly, his eyes sparkling.  
"Hey FM, you're playing their song!" Someone shouts at the big wooden radio. Everyone laughs. You definitely hear whistles.  
"You used to play the song for me." Poe says, smirking down at you.  
"Over the radio. You and the girls."  
"It was completely against the rules." You chuckle, stepping sideways to match his steps.  
"You'd never have done it if it wasn't." He teased. "You're the girl who purposely downed a shot when the barkeep told you to get out."  
"Please." You look hurt. "That was a long time ago."  
"Not too long." He steals a quick peck while you're facing each other. You roll your eyes and go with the music.  
"Two years." You say.  
"No wonder you look so old." He says, his eyes mischievous. "I should find myself a new girl."  
"Well, there's three at this party I might suggest." You say, playing along. "Nice and young. Virgins, all of them."  
He snickers and leans in to kiss your neck while your back is pressed against him.  
Then someone shouts something playfully, but you see the change in Poe's eyes. His feet falter. You keep your expression the same, but you're worried. "Poe?" You wonder if he hears you, or if he's lost.  
He shakes his head and focuses on you.  
"You alright?" You ask in a low voice so no one hears you.  
"Yeah." He breaths back. But your hand is on his chest and you feel his heartbeat quicken. Not an excited, thrilled quicken, but an erratic panicked quicken.  
"Poe, stay with me." You murmur. He's breathing funny. "You're alright."  
The song ends mercifully, right at that moment. You turn to the crowd, smiling and laughing. They're cheering and clapping. As the next song starts they all grab their girls and squeeze onto the floor, pushing you and Poe out of the room. You turn and look at Poe, concern in your eyes. His own eyes are dark and unfocused.  
"Poe?" You put your hand on his chest. "Why don't we go get some air?" His expression clears long enough for you to know he heard you. You slip out the back door.  
It's cool and dark outside. The chill is refreshing after getting all hot from dancing.  
Poe collapses against the deck as soon as you're out of the house. He sits on a step and holds his head in his hands, breathing shakily.  
You put your hand on his shoulder and you swear you could've burned him, he flinched so mightily.  
"Poe, it's just me." You say soothingly, trying to bring him back to his senses. He acts like he doesn't even hear you.  
You stand behind him, your hand on your hip, and look out at the surrounding darkness and run a hand through your hair. You know what he heard, what triggered the attack. It's like that blasted scene all over again, for him. He's In the torture chamber, with those monsters "interrogating" the prisoner.  
You don't know the extent of what happened, but you know that he still carries the wounds they gave him. Even the ones that he doesn't cover up, the ones on his face that he can't hide, show what he went through.  
You squeeze in next to him on the step and rub his shoulder.  
"Poe, snap out of it." You plead. He grips your hand, squeezing it.  
"I can feel him." He gasps. "He's in my head."  
"He's not in your head." You say. "He's not even here. He's gone. Dead."  
He shudders and looks at you. His eyes look so tortured even in the night's darkness, tortured and terrified. "I can feel him." He whispers.  
"It's not real." You wipe a tear from his eye and cup his cheek tenderly. "The war's over. You're in America, safe."  
"Safe." He repeats, waiting for you to confirm.  
"Safe." He reaches up and covers your hand with his own. "With me."  
"America." He says, like he's a child again. "We're back in America."  
"That's right." You say, nodding. "God bless America."  
He laughs a shaky, breathless laugh and squeezes his eyes shut, another tear escaping his dark lashes.  
"It hurts." He gasps.  
"It's not real." You insist again.  
"God, they can't take me again." It seems more like a prayer than just a statement.  
"They won't." You wrap your free arm around him. "I'll protect you." You stay like that as he shudders and just tries to breath. Finally his breathing slows and he stops shaking so much.  
"This is pathetic." He mutters, resting his head on your shoulder.  
"You don't think I can protect you?" You murmur.  
"I think you'd kill any man who comes within a five mile radius of this sad pilot." He says, his smile a shadow of it's former self. "It's my pride that can't be protected."  
"Well yeah." You agree sheepishly. He chuckles.  
"I'm alright now." He says. "It wasn't so bad this time."  
"Don't tell yourself that." You protest. "It was incredibly bad. Tragically pathetic. I don't think your pride will ever recover."  
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into himself, squeezing you way too tightly.  
"I take it back." You say, your voice muffled by his arms. "Please let me go."  
He accepts your apology and releases you.  
"Close enough." He says. "Although next time you could try the words "I'm" and "Sorry"."  
"Never." You say stoically.  
He kissed your forehead and gives you a playful noogie.  
"What am I, twelve?" You complain. "You'll mess up my hair."  
He grins and pulls you in for a real kiss, on da lips.  
You have to break away because you're laughing at him.  
He leans against you again and you run your fingers through his dark hair and stare out into the darkness. His breathing slows to the point where you actually think he's asleep, until he breaks the silence.  
"Y/N." he murmurs, his eyes still shut.  
"Poe." You reply.  
"Don't listen to the bad voices. You're a heck of a dancer."  
You chuckle and even though you can't see his face, you know Poe is grinning, well pleased with himself.  
"Okay." You humour him.  
"No really." He insists. "You're like this old gal I used to have."  
A shocked laugh escapes your lips but he's not even apologetic, he's laughing to himself.  
"Poe Dameron!" You cry. "You are a horrible man!"  
"Yep." He agrees, snuggling closer into you. "But you still love me."  
You roll your eyes, but you don't deny it.  
"Yeah." You agree, looking up at the few stars that aren't hidden by trees. "I do love you."  
It's you two against the world- that's how it's always been, and that's how it always will be. 

*Awkward ending because I know not how to close*


End file.
